


A way to save us

by lwise2019



Series: Mikkel's Story [9]
Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 04:07:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21385825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lwise2019/pseuds/lwise2019
Summary: The team gets a message of hope.
Series: Mikkel's Story [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1536739
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	A way to save us

The team waited in doleful silence. Tuuri waited by the radio, her head in her hands. Sigrun had taken out her dagger and was methodically sharpening it. Emil sat beside her staring at the fire which Mikkel had so laboriously built and which was now crackling merrily, perfect for cooking the porridge which they no longer had. Lalli sat to Emil's right, gazing blankly into the distance. Mikkel studied his hands, so large and powerful and yet so useless now.

But they were survivors and descendants of survivors of the worst catastrophe to have struck the Earth since the end of the Cretaceous. After a few minutes, Mikkel hauled himself to his feet, stalked into the tank, and searched every single locker, drawer, and cabinet, of which there were many. He was rewarded with a package of emergency rations which appeared to have been left behind and forgotten the last time the tank had been used some ten years before. He passed them out to the whole team including himself.

Lalli accepted his share without looking at Mikkel and slowly began to gnaw at the time-hardened bulk. Emil complained, of course: “If this is all we'll have to eat from now on I want you to shoot me.” Sigrun was not much more enthusiastic: “It's not _that_ bad. Complain once all we have left is what nature provides. Like dirt and stuff.”

Mikkel had just opened his mouth to snap at them both when Tuuri shouted, “Sigrun! Come! Hurry! They've found a way to save us!”

The whole team rushed into the tank, even Lalli, and as the last one in, Mikkel closed and sealed the door. There was no sense risking anything sneaking up on them while they were distracted.

The General himself had taken over the radio and gave their instructions. “There's an outpost pier not far from your current location. A supply dock built during the Danish reclamation attempt. If you miss it you're blind. It's the one with the lighthouse. There the ship will be able to drop off your replacement crates.”

Tuuri acknowledged and signed off, then waved the others to silence while she spoke to Lalli, finishing with a question. Lalli nodded and answered briefly, and she replied in a firm tone.

Lalli turned to the door without further response, and Mikkel opened the door and stepped back out of his way and, not coincidentally, out of sight of the others. Lalli stepped down and found one large hand blocking his path and the other offering Mikkel's share of the rations. He paused for a moment, looking back and forth between the hands, then hesitantly accepted the food. No longer blocked, he dashed away down the street. Mikkel climbed back inside. The tiny scout had not a gram of fat on his slender body and Mikkel had a kilogram to spare. Perhaps two.

Tuuri was explaining to the others, “He said the lighthouse was close, so close we'd see it if there weren't buildings in the way. It's just there's a lot of stuff in the streets and he'll have to find a way for us to get through.” They all nodded. In theory the tank could push most vehicles out of its way, but in practice no one trusted it to hold together if they tried that.

“Okay, then!” said Sigrun happily. “Let's pack up and get out of here!” Tuuri stayed by the radio in a far better mood, and the other three clambered out to get to work.

Mikkel's fire had flared up and was now threatening to escape the circle of rocks that served as his fireplace. He rushed to throw a bucket of water on it. His cry of “Emil!” brought the other around just in time to catch the empty bucket, and one look sent him rushing to the stream for more. Mikkel hastily gathered his cooking gear and looked up at Sigrun in annoyance at her failure to help.

Sigrun's dagger was out and she was staring intently at the back of the tank. Just as Mikkel turned, she darted past him, _pounced_ on something behind a bush, and came back out grinning and cleaning her knife. “Troll,” she said cheerfully as she came back still scanning the surroundings. A troll was a grossling that had once been human, and they were dismayingly common in cities. Only perhaps one Rash victim in a hundred became a grossling, but there had been unthinkable numbers of humans in Old World cities. That was why Cleansers like Emil simply burned cities instead of trying to clear them out or salvage anything from them.

The Cleanser returned with his bucket and poured it carefully on several spots which hissed and smoked in response, then dumped the rest in the middle of the crude fireplace. “All out,” he said confidently.

“Good. Get all the gear together and dump it in the tank. We'll sort it later. Then come help me with the firewood.” They both got to work and had the tank loaded and provisioned within minutes. The two men and Sigrun then each independently circled the tank looking for anything that might rattle or come loose, before jumping inside and locking it up.

“So, let's get going,” Emil urged.

“No, we're waiting for Lalli,” Mikkel answered, carefully stowing a pot.

“But then – what was the hurry? We could have taken our time!” He twisted, wincing. In the rush to store the firewood as fast as possible, he had lifted much more weight than he was accustomed to.

“Hurry up and wait, Emil, that's a warrior's life,” Sigrun said philosophically. “We're ready to move whenever the twig shows up. In the meantime, we can just rest.” She suited actions to words by hopping up and stretching out on her bunk.

Two hours later, Sigrun was asleep, Tuuri was in the driver's seat gazing dully ahead with half-closed eyes, Emil was trying to stay awake beside her, and Mikkel was attempting to read the journal they'd found the previous day. It was hard going, for it was hand-written and the writer's hand was not terribly neat to begin and got worse as time went on, but that didn't really matter so much since Mikkel's eyes were looking at the page, but in his mind's eye he was reviewing Lalli's file.

The Finn was an experienced scout, having begun six years earlier at age thirteen, the age of majority in Finland. His files described him as a “mage”, and his cousin did the same, but Mikkel sincerely doubted the existence of magic and thought that this notation just meant that he was very skillful and, so far, very lucky. But sensible scouts didn't enter cities and Mikkel wondered and worried whether Lalli's wilderness scouting skills really translated well to city scouting. He tried not to selfishly wonder what the rest of them were going to do if his skills _didn't_ translate well and their guide didn't come back.

The proximity sensor made everyone jump. “Lalli!” Tuuri cried joyfully. Mikkel took a moment to put the journal down carefully, with the result that Sigrun nearly kicked him in the face jumping down. The two of them rushed forward to see Lalli signalling “this way” to the tank. Tuuri put the tank in gear and they were finally on their way to get some food.


End file.
